Solitude
by Darkwood
Summary: Endgame in four parts. A short story inspired by the events at the end of the series Cowboy Bebop.
1. I

**CB: Solitude, -I-**

She was quiet when she got back this time. I told Jette that it was better to leave the two of them alone, both Ed and Faye, very different women, obviously needed their space for some reason.

I had no idea, at the time, that the two of them would be going and not coming back. The message from Ed on the launch dock of the Bebop made me realize how much I'd come to like our little family. Somewhere along the line I'd gone from hating the rodent-dog, the vamp-woman, and the freak-child to caring about them all.

We ate all the food Jette prepared for the five of us, and then the two of us went our separate ways. Jette went in to tend to his bonsai, I spent a long time on the deck staring out at the dusk light.

Dusk has turned to night, now, and I'm still out here.

I can hear her mocking voice now.

_ "Did Mr. Macho catch a cold? Unbelieveable, I thought you were indestructible."_ But something tells me there would be a smile hidden somewhere in her voice. There has been for a while.

At first I spent a lot of time comparing her with Julia… but I've since gotten over that. Faye won't ever be Julia, and Julia… won't ever be Faye. I manage to appreciate both women for their special qualities, though I'd never openly admit it to Faye that I appreciate her.

* * *

_A/N: Endgame, in four parts. A short story inspired by the ending of the series "Cowboy Bebop". The timeline, for once, is linear, and straightforward, and the actions are unremarkable._


	2. II

**CB: Solitude, -II-**

The building held his doom. I knew it the moment that Jette told me that Spike had once been a Red Dragon. I've been to the tower building, I've seen the inside of it, all the way down to the chamber where they hold people before they kill them.

The Chamber the Red Dragon have is old fashioned, there, they kill you executioner style, like in some old pre-Gate disaster movie involving samurai and painted ladies. It chilled me to the marrow, the one time that I saw it, so I've put that aside, just like I put aside all my old memories. And the worst part of it all is that I put all of it aside for him, and he doesn't even care about me.

I knew he wouldn't ask me for help, but I couldn't stand the thought of him going alone. So I followed him. As soon as he left the Bebop, I took off after him. It took me a while to gather together my wits, but once I did, I took off out of the ship.

I'm sure he would've laughed if he knew what my plan was. And how little I had with which to accomplish it.

In the end, I only made it into the city in time to see the last, big explosion. Worn out with worry, and from running as far as I had to get to the ship that I stole to take me in, I nonetheless took off running for the spot where I was sure he would be.

Getting into the building was no problem. The ISP hadn't arrived on the scene yet, they most likely wouldn't for hours, maybe even days. The syndicate isn't something the average officer will fool around with. Getting to the top floor was a little harder. Not that anyone left alive was standing in my way, but the path of destruction that Spike left behind him on his way up made following him very difficult. I had to turn a blind eye on a few atrocities he'd committed to get there.

On the top floor, though, I was greeted with a sight that almost sent me to my knees. My stomach dropped and I felt nauseous all at once. A half circle, a half moon, of Red Dragons stood on the open rooftop, the sunlight just starting to filter down over their shoulders, and stared. I watched, horrified, as Spike… my Spike, even though he chose Julia, a ghost… nothing more than a memory, over me… took a few shakey steps. Noticing me in the back of the crowd, he smiled a little smile, and aimed his fingers in the shape of a gun.

Whatever gesture he was making was lost, however, as he took a spill, face first, onto the shallow steps. The group of us stood in shock for a long moment, until my senses returned to me.

Death is a very powerful equalizer.

Something in me was sure that Spike was dead, as he hit those steps.

My feet leapt into action, carrying me forward, and I collapsed before him.

Something else inside me, obviously, refused to believe it.

"Spike," I nearly shouted, afraid to touch him, to know for certain that he was no longer among the living. But when he grunted, I couldn't hold back. I reached forward and put my hands on his shoulders. He was still warm.

A dying body's flesh goes cold quickly.

The words he said in the belly of the Bebop come to mind, _'I'm not going there to die, Faye. I'm going to see if I was ever truly alive.'_ If he wasn't alive before, he was when I lifted his head to cradle it in my lap.

* * *

_A/N: Yes, I know it's been done. Everyone that writes a Faye/Spike thing decides that he hasn't died at the end of the last episode, but I tried, at least, to make it a little bit interesting as to how he lives. And besides, this short story isn't intended to be happy ending to a sad one. I just prefer the idea that the metaphor of the tiger striped cat isn't a literal one._


	3. III

**CB: Solitude, -III-**

In the morning, Spike bandaged much less mummy-like than normal, I am surprised to find him sleeping alone on the couch. After my resolution to leave the two of them to whatever devices they each had, I was surprised to find she had abandoned him.

"Spike."

He groans and tries to turn over, but instantly regrets it.

"Spike," I repeat, a little louder.

A mumbled, "What?" greets my query and he sits up a little.

"Where is she?"

"She who?" he asks, running a hand through his hair and picking up a cigarette.

"Faye. You remember, the woman who dragged you in here?"

He drops his lighter and looks up at me, something in his empty eyes not so empty anymore. It seems, instead, scared. "You mean she isn't here?"

I shake my head, folding my arms, and stare at him.

He leans forward, one hand on his forehead, and slowly lifts the other to his chest, as though remembering something. Then, as though his mind has suddenly fired with the power of a thousand nerve endings at once, he leaps up off the couch and starts to move past me towards the hangar.

"You didn't come back in a ship, Spike," I say, reaching one arm out to catch him as he stumbles and nearly goes crashing into something.

"Let go," he says loudly as he struggles to get away.

"Why? So you can steal the Hammerhead and head off after her? Where would she go, Spike?"

Anxiously, he struggles, but I maintain a firm grip on him.

"She has nowhere else to go _but_ here. She'll be back." I haven't seen such determination in him since he ran off to kill… Vicious, yes, it was Vicious he went after. "And even if you were going after her, you're not healthy enough to make it very far yet. Whatever's pressing and urgent that you need to get to Faye for, you can't do it if you're passed out. You're only human, Spike."


	4. IV

**CB: Solitude, -IV-**

"So that's my good deed for the decade," I mutter to myself as I head out of the pawn shop. The Red Tail isn't going to be fixed anytime soon, Jette won't do it if I don't pay him for it, and I can't get it out of there without having to see Spike, so I'm starting fresh. I'll never quite be able to start clean, not with the money that I owe, but I figure that I can at least set myself up as a solitary bounty hunter and start living my life again.

The terminal around me, as I enter the space station, is crowded, and everyone has lots of baggage. The destruction of the building downtown, along with the Syndicate melt down that happened there, means everyone's just as keen as I am to get out of town. Not that I blame them. Mars isn't good for much of anything. And it helps me fade into the crowds on the off chance that a certain pair of mismatched eyes is looking for me.

I turn up the collar of my jacket, and tip my sunglasses up so that nothing of my eyes are visible. It wouldn't do to let some predator see that I'm weak. It took all the strength I had to get up and walk out of the Bebop last night after he was finally asleep. Unlike so many other times, it was peaceful between us, calm, with neither the stale tinge of sexual tension in the air that used to keep us at each other's throats or the suffocating passion between us that was the only alternative to the tension. I do miss him. His arrogance, his strength… that annoyingly confident grin…

His hands.

Over the loudspeaker, I hear the announcement for boarding of my flight and with a final glance out the window, I blow a single kiss in the direction of the crashlanded Bebop and turn my back on him.


End file.
